


A Ferengi Christmas Carol

by SweetHermitress



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Christmas, Holidays, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Rules of Acquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28361220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetHermitress/pseuds/SweetHermitress
Summary: A couple of years ago I had the “sonic-shower thought” that on Ferenginar, A Christmas Carol is billed as a horror story.  This story is a result of that little thought.  It’s just a bit of fun as the inhabitants of DS9 attempt to teach Quark the meaning of Christmas.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	A Ferengi Christmas Carol

When he and Julian had come into Quark’s that night for their usual game of darts, Miles had been in a pretty good mood. Keiko and Molly had come back to DS9 because it turned out the spring recess for the Bajoran group Keiko had been researching with coincided with Christmas. He knew it was terribly out of fashion for him to be teaching Molly about such an ancient Earth tradition, and he didn’t believe in the religious implications behind it any more than Keiko did, but it was always nice to have an excuse to get the family together and celebrate. 

He and Julian met outside the bar. They passed Worf, who was leaving a date with Jadzia. Maybe it was O’Brien’s imagination, but he thought Worf looked positively - jolly. He asked Jadzia about it as he and Julian ordered their drinks.

“Worf was just telling me he’s celebrating an old earth festival in honor of his adopted parents-“

“Christmas time is here,” Julian nodded.

“No,” Jadzia said thoughtfully, “it was something else. Something to celebrate... oily foods?”

“It’s Chanukah,” Miles jumped in. “His adopted parents are Jewish. If I remember right, the Jewish people celebrate when they were hiding from oppressors, waiting for reinforcements to come, and the lamp oil that should have only lasted a day lasted a week, allowing the reinforcements to come and save the day? Anyway, the food is just an added benefit, like with any other holiday.”

“What is this, this Christmas?” Quark asked, handing them their drinks. “Captain Sisko was saying something about it too. First he ordered some sort of disgusting drink made out of eggs, then he was wondering if it would be disrespectful to the Bajoran faith if they had a small ceremony on the promenade. I think he’s worried about the Emissary celebrating an old Earth fable.”

“It’s not just a fable,” Miles snapped. “It’s a tradition.”

“But Miles,” Jadzia put in gently, “some Terrans do believe in the old religious myths. And some of those myths blended with other religions into the traditions you have.”

When Miles and Julian both stared at her, she went on to explain, “Curzon and Ben used to talk about the Earth holidays. Most cultures have some sort of winter festival. Even on the Trill home world we have a feast for the longest night of the year, so Christmas was especially interesting to me.”

“Oh yeah,” Quark asked. “What sort of winter festival is it? What makes this Christmas so great?”

Balking a moment, Julian began, “Well, it’s a time to acknowledge the days getting longer, to spend together with your friends and family, give gifts-“

Quark snapped his fingers. “I knew it. I knew it was some silly hu-mon nonsense. Spending time with family - don’t you live with them?”

Miles glared over his drink as he sipped it to stop himself from arguing. Rom, who had sidled up to the crowd, offered a weak, “I think it sounds nice. After all, we don’t live with Moogie anymore. It would be nice to have an excuse once a year to go back to Ferenginar.”

Rolling his eyes, Quark countered, “You were always her favorite. And giving gifts? That’s a sure way to get people to look to you with a hand out at all times, holiday or not. Though I suppose,” he added with a devilish smile, “the lead-up could be a sort of holiday for the vendors selling those gifts...”

O’Brien slammed his synth ale on the bar. “That does it, Quark. I think it’s time to teach you the meaning of Christmas.”

Quark blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Miles reached in his pocket and pulled out the fob for the holodeck program he’d been planning to share with Molly later. “Watch this,” he told Quark.

Haltingly, Quark accepted it. “Watch it? What is it?”

“It’s a program based around an ancient Earth novel called A Christmas Carol,” he told the barkeep. “I think you’ll find it... enlightening.”

“All right. And what are you laughing at, doctor?” Quark demanded, turning to Julian, whose lips were trying and failing to keep in laughter.

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” he lied. “I agree with Miles. It just might give you a wake up call.”

Puzzled, Quark decided that he’d made enough profits off the dabo tables for the night to justify taking a break to check out this program. Never had the Chief been so insistent on showing Quark one of his programs, and since Nog was wasting his time on Earth at Starfleet Academy and the Federation was trying to get a foothold here, he figured it just might be worth his time to understand this bizarre Terran holiday. Putting Klumm in charge of the bar, he went up to one of his holosuites and entered in the mysterious program.

A misty voice echoed throughout the chamber as an ancient Earth street appeared before him. “Old Marley was as dead as a door nail,” it informed him. “This must be distinctly understood or nothing wonderful can come of the tale I am about to relate.”

Quark shrugged. “All right,” he drawled.

He noticed the sign above a storefront reading “Scrooge and Marley.” 

“Ah, so Marley was a businessman,” he mused, “A man after my own heart.” 

Entering the establishment, he saw a small, timid looking human male holding his hands over a candle flame. “Seven years ago this very day, Mr. Scrooge!”

An older man raised his head from his ledger. “What’s that, Cratchitt?”

“Seven years ago! That Mr. Marley died.”

“Rule of Acquisition number 33,” Quark recited with a smile, “It never hurts to suck up to the boss. It’s good of him to remember.”

The old man, Scrooge, harrumphed. “Is it too much to ask you to do the work for which I pay you handsomely?”

Even Quark raised his eyebrows. “Handsomely? The man’s basically dressed in rags!” He shrugged. “Then again, Rule of Acquisition 47: never trust a man in a better suit than yours.”

He watched as Scrooge gave this Cratchitt a hard time about heating the place, then as Scrooge’s ridiculous nephew Fred entered wishing his uncle a Merry Christmas, bidding the old man to come dine with he and his wife. Scrooge scoffed at Fred (where did these humans get such silly names?) that he shouldn’t have married a poor girl.

“That’s right,” Quark clucked to himself, “never trust a female who can’t do anything for you financially.”

When the young man told Scrooge he wanted nothing from him except to be cordial, Quark laughed. “Don’t believe it, Scrooge! He wants something, otherwise why would he come begging every year for you to come visit? It clearly isn’t for the pleasure of your company.”

The nephew left, and some gentlemen entered with the nerve to ask for charitable donations, even as Scrooge made it evident that he wasn’t about to foolishly give away his money. As the men left, horrified, Quark did his best not to clap the holographic Scrooge on the shoulder in praise for his resolve. He still didn’t understand why the chief and Dr. Bashir had made such a fuss over this program for him!

As Quark followed Scrooge home and witnessed the door knocker turning into a face. He screamed even more than Scrooge had in shock, then gasped at the old man’s insistence that nothing had happened.

“What’s the matter with you?” Quark demanded, eyes flitting around as he followed Scrooge into the chilly home. “You yourself said Marley was dead for seven years, and now that you see him on your door, you’re just going to act like everything is normal? What’s wrong with you?”

When Scrooge sat eating his dinner, Quark was just beginning to calm down - and then he heard it. The scraping of metal against the dusty wood floor. Then it appeared: the ghost of Marley. Quark actually had to pause the program a moment to remind himself that it was, in fact, just a program. The ghost accused Scrooge of shirking his duties.

“What are you talking about?” Quark gaped, “I mean, look at how the man is living: he is clearly stingy with the latinum or he wouldn’t be in such a dump.”

As he finished this outburst, he heard Marley explain why he was dragging this chain around his neck. He chuckled as the ghost attributed it to his love of money in life.

“You’re telling me even when you’re dead you get to keep your latinum? Doesn’t sound too bad.” He faltered a bit as the ghost shrieked in distress, shaking the chain in question.

“All right, maybe it’s a little bad,” Quark reluctantly conceded.

Scrooge then went on to praise Marley at having been a good man of business.

“Business?!” The ghost snapped at him, “Mankind was my business!” Quark rolled his eyes. “The common welfare was my business! Charity, mercy, benevolence, all were my business! The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!”

“All right, all right!” Quark sneered. “We get it: you got a bone to pick with your old partner.” He paused a moment. “I wonder how you can bribe a ghost.”

As he pondered this thought, the ghost told Scrooge he would be visited by three spirits. He briefly admired Scrooge’s tenacity in asking that all three spirits come at once, then watched as the specter of Jacob Marley vanished, chain and all.

After a long pause, Scrooge, ever full of temerity, spat, “Humbug.”

Quark glared at him. “You keep saying that. What does it even mean? Does it mean you’re crazy for ignoring a ghost, because that’s what it seems like to me!”

As Scrooge slowly made his preparations for bed, Quark checked the time. Marley’s ghost had said the first ghost would be visiting in an hour, so Quark told the computer to skip to time index 0100. As the hour chimed on the clock, a brightness filled the room, and Quark suddenly found himself standing next to a small person with a glowing halo holding pointed hat. He jumped in surprise.

“Jeez, most transporters make some noise! Don’t scare me like that!”

The spirit introduced itself as the Ghost of Christmas Past, explaining that it was there for Scrooge’s salvation.

“Now normally I’d tell you to get lost,” Quark began as Scrooge gathered his robe around him, “but if you’re actually taking him into his past, maybe he can make an investment and watch it mature.” He rubbed his ear at the thought. “But knowing you hu-mons, it’s something idiotically sentimental.”

As Scrooge was returned to the past, watching his old school chums enjoy the Christmas holiday whilst he was left abandoned by his cold father, Quark sat down at a desk to observe. If he was honest, his heart felt a little sorry for the young Scrooge. “That’s just not right,” Quark muttered. “A father should be teaching his son the Rules of Acquisition, showing him the ropes in business, not letting him wallow in sadness all winter while it’s thloppering out.”

It was revealed Scrooge had a sister, Fan, who had died too young. The ghost reminded Scrooge of Fred, his only living relative. As Scrooge pondered this, Quark admitted to himself that if, heaven forbid, something happened to that useless brother of his, he’d actually want to spend more time with his nephew Nog. To make sure he had proper Ferengi morals, he told himself.

The scene shifted and Scrooge, the ghost, and Quark were at the location of Scrooge’s first apprenticeship. “All right, so maybe his father wasn’t completely neglectful of his duties,” Quark allowed. But he was horrified to see that this was not an average day of business, but rather a party - paid for at Fezziwig’s own expense! All under the guise of making the workplace... happier?

“Doesn’t he know Rule of Acquisition 63?” Quark fretted, “Work is the best therapy - at least for your employees! Throwing a feast, having them dance? What a waste!”

Still, perhaps it wasn’t entirely a waste: a female, beautiful by the standards of Terran women anyway, approached Scrooge and danced with him, and it was clear he was in love. The two of them were dressed similarly - maybe she was of the same class, maybe higher so Scrooge wouldn’t be taking a risk formalizing a contract with her father.

The scene changed again, and Scrooge and the girl, Belle, were a bit older. She confronted him that he would never feel ready to marry her because his greed had surpassed his love of her. That their agreement to marry was old and if she, a poor girl, had met him now, she knew he wouldn’t seek her out. As the spectral image of a young Scrooge stammered to respond, she released him from their agreement, flatly uttering, “May you be happy in the life you have chosen,” as she walked away. The real Scrooge was in tears as he watched her go off into the winter mist. Quark found his eyes a little damp.

“That’s ridiculous,” he protested weakly to no one, wiping his eyes, “Besides, Rule of Acquisition 94,” Quark sniffled, “Females and finances don’t mix.” Weakly, he added, “Good for you, Scrooge, for thinking with your pocketbook and not your heart.” But he wasn’t sure how sincerely he meant it.

Mercifully, they were back in Scrooge’s gloomy bed chambers. At the arrival of the Ghost of Christmas Present, the day seemed to fly by. What was Scrooge supposed to learn from this? That the Cratchitt family was worse off? So what? After all, weren’t they still able to afford a Christmas dinner at all, unlike the strangers the ghost showed? Besides, Rule of Acquisition 106 said there was no honor in poverty, so if Cratchitt felt he was badly off, he should find a new job! Was he supposed to learn that Scrooge’s nephew Fred actually cared about him? All right, so he was a sentimental fool. What did all that have to do with anything? Eventually the ghost revealed two hideous malnourished children hiding beneath his massive robe, and Quark squealed in fear. 

“What are they?” Scrooge demanded querulously.

“They are your children!” The ghost boomed, “They are the children of all who would deny their existence. Their names are Ignorance and Want. Beware them, for upon their brow is written Doom!”

“Now, now, be fair!” Quark trembled, “I give generously to the Bajoran War Orphans Fund-“ He cut himself off, “I mean. That is. Like he said, Scrooge pays his taxes and all that. That - That should be enough.”

Eventually the Ghost of Christmas Present left, and soon enough a terrifying figure in a hooded robe approached Scrooge, and without them announcing it, he knew this was the Ghost of Christmas Future. They overheard people in the stock exchange (which was not nearly as elegant as the one on Ferenginar) talking about a dead man who no one seemed to miss. When Scrooge asked to see some feeling related to the unknown man’s demise, they were suddenly in an even grimmer, grimier part of town where they witnessed a pawn broker buying the dead man’s items from some opportunistic scavengers. 

“That’s not right,” Quark muttered, “Whoever this is should have settled his estate so he would get the most money right before he died. Or at least make sure his friends got what was left over. You can’t blame these good people for taking advantage of his lack of planning.”

The ghost took Scrooge to see the Cratchitts, and they learned their Tiny Tim had died. Quark wiped his nose. “Well... well, maybe Scrooge could have referred him to a better doctor with only a modest finder’s fee, no more than 5%. But that’s something he can fix. Right?”

Suddenly the ghost, Scrooge, and Quark were in the cemetery, where the snow was glebbening down. The ghost pointed to a tombstone, and Scrooge became more panicked, fretting about the unknown dead man. As Scrooge wiped the snow from the name, he read the name EBENEZER SCROOGE. The businessman became tearful, begging his preternatural guide for the chance to prove he could change. As he did, Quark was jumping in to offer his support.

“He could start spending time with Fred and start to fleece him! After all, Fred seems pretty eager to be fleeced by his uncle, otherwise he wouldn’t spend so much time with him. Or he could sponsor Tiny Tim with his brand, who could buy his medical care! All Tim would have to do is advertise Scrooge and Marley wherever he went, and since he’s slow everyone would be able to see him. And Scrooge can arrange his affairs if he knows he’s going to die soon. Come on, give him a chance!”

And as Scrooge collapsed into tears, they were at once back in Scrooge’s dingy bedchamber. Scrooge was positively elated, praising Christmastime, practically dancing about in his glee at having another chance. Quark was about to congratulate the businessman for cheating the ghost, but then he did something Quark didn’t expect: as he leaned out the window and learned from a passerby that it was still Christmas Day, he told the boy to buy the most expensive prize turkey, even offering to tip the boy for his haste. 

“Scrooge, old boy,” Quark muttered, “what are you doing?”

Scrooge dressed in his finest clothes and paid for the bird to be sent to the Cratchitts for the holiday dinner. If Quark wasn’t dumbfounded already, he watched as Scrooge approached the men whom had beseeched him for money the day before - and offered so much money to them that they were delighted with him! 

“You’d gotten rid of them yesterday,” Quark protested, “Even if you couldn’t pretend you didn’t see them today doesn’t mean you had to give to them now! What’s wrong with you?”

Quark’s jaw was agape the rest of the program. Now only did Scrooge spend the day with Fred, but he showed no signs of trying to take advantage of his nephew’s good nature. The next day when Bob Cratchitt came in late, he not only increased the clerk’s salary (doubled!), he offered to fully pay for Tiny Tim’s medical expenses. The same narrator who had spoken at the beginning of the program announced that while everyone remarked on the change in Scrooge, they believed he’d become a better man, that he kept Christmas well, and became a second father to Tiny Tim, who had observed “God bless us, everyone.”

As the holosuite returned to its natural state, the program having been completed, Quark stood there, mute, unable to fully process what he had just witnessed. Slowly, he withdrew the fob and shuffled out, returning to the bar, where the group was waiting for him.

“Well,” Jadzia finally broke the uncomfortable silence, “What did you think?”

Quark merely shook his head.

“What’s wrong, brother?” Rom put in quietly. “You didn’t like it?”

“Like it? That was horrifying! A successful businessman with everything he wants in life suddenly becomes generous?” He said the last word as if it was a disease, shuddering. “Only hu-mons would come up with a story like that!”

Clearly holding back laughter, Jadzia said, “I think you’re missing the point, Quark.”

“So he was about to die in a year, maybe a few more,” Quark went on, “He still had time to enjoy his wealth.”

“You’re forgetting, brother, Rule of Acquisition 125: You can’t make a deal if you’re dead.”

Quark snapped his head back. “Since when do I need to be lectured about the Rules of Acquisition by you, Rom?”

“And what about Rule of Acquisition 57?” Jadzia chimed in, “Good customers are as precious as latinum; you should treasure them? Scrooge clearly didn’t treasure his customers.”

“Rule of Acquisition 285,” Quark barked back. “No good deed goes unpunished. Mark my words, he’ll regret his sudden decision to become charitable.” He shuddered. “What an awful story.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dr. Bashir glance slyly at the Chief, who grimaced and punched something into a PADD. “What’s that about?” Quark asked.

“Oh, it’s just a bet I made with the Chief,” the doctor explained.

“Julian here was saying that by Ferengi standards, A Christmas Carol would be considered a horror story,” O’Brien added. “I thought even you might be able to get something out of it.” He glared at the barkeep. “I lost.”

Quark thought a moment, rubbing his ear slightly. “No, you didn’t, Chief.”

O’Brien did a double take. “I didn’t?”

“That’s it! It’s a horror story! Why, I could take this to Ferenginar and make a fortune on it!” He spread his hands out in the air. “‘A Christmas Carol: A Cautionary Tale about Hu-Mon Morals.’ That’s brilliant, doctor! Now Chief, how much do you want for the program? Say, three strips of latinum?”

Bashir chuckled as O’Brien shook his head in disgust. “You’re hopeless, Quark,” Miles retorted.

Quark shrugged. “You drive a hard bargain: five, and no more!”

O’Brien downed the rest of his synth ale and walked away, still shaking his head as Julian followed him.

“I guess he’ll think about it,” Dax quipped before joining them.

“I hope he does,” Quark said earnestly. “A Christmas Carol,” he mused aloud. He turned to Morn, who was sitting at his usual place, already halfway drunken into oblivion. “See, the great hu-mon businessman Marley had been dead already for seven years - now, keep that in mind, or it won’t seem quite so terrifying...”


End file.
